


Dances

by thecruciblegavemeyou



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M, SnowBaz, carry on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:45:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecruciblegavemeyou/pseuds/thecruciblegavemeyou
Summary: based off a tumblr prompt





	

**Author's Note:**

> based off a tumblr prompt

I heard him behind me, screaming “Can I have this dance?” like a bloody idiot over the damn club music.   
  
That was the first time he said it.   
  
The second time was five seconds later, when he tapped me on the shoulder, “Can I have this dance!?”   
  
I jumped so hard I spilled my drink. All down his shirt. I couldn’t help but laugh. Hysterically. For about a minute.   
  
He was laughing too, the gorgeous golden boy with the tawny hair and the moles and the blue blue eyes.   
  
He was also sopping wet now, so I dragged him out of the crowd to clean him up.   
  
My head was still pounding from the music, and I wondered how someone could work here everyday and not go deaf.   
  
“There you go,” I said, handing him back a semi-dry, red-stained shirt (at least it wasn’t a nice shirt, how the hell did a boy like him get into an upscale club like this anyways?)   
  
He frowned, “You still owe me a dance…?”  
  
“Baz.” I supplied.   
  
“Baz. You still owe me a dance, Baz.”   
  
I laughed more that night than I had in months.

* * *

The third time he said it was Christmas. Our first Christmas, in his loft, with his roommate Penny groaning in the background.   
  
His eyes twinkled mischievously, holding out what could only be assumed to be a hand under his too-big jumper, “Can I have this dance?”   
  
I spent most of my time in Simon’s loft that winter, dancing with the blue-eyed prince that turned my world upside-down (Penny only threatened to move out 64 times, which I think was a record season for her).

* * *

The fourth time he asked was the day he found me in the middle of an empty room, staring at the ugly pink walls and the purple trim. It looked like someone had let Penny choose the color scheme (which was a bad idea, if our last trip to Penny and Micah’s was anything to go by).   
  
Simon’s sense of style wasn’t much better, if his red-stained shirt was anything to go by.   
  
“Can I have this dance?” He asked, holding out a hand, pulling me up from the dusty ground.   
  
I laughed as we danced around boxes, unpacking our old things and unboxing new stuff for our first apartment.   
  
We pretended that we had music, spinning in circles until Simon tripped over a box.   
  
It was only a twisted ankle, but Simon demanded I “carry him across the threshold” anyways after a quick trip to A&E. 

* * *

The fifth time was my turn, and I turned to that tawny skinned, blue-eyed, suit-laden boy, and asked “Can I have this dance?”   
  
He beamed as bright as the ring glittering on his finger, taking my hand.   
  
For once, Penny didn’t moan. She did cry, and record the whole thing. 

(Apparently first dances are a big deal). 


End file.
